


Dating a Widow

by cdybedahl



Category: 30 Rock, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdybedahl/pseuds/cdybedahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a woman meets a woman during an alien invasion, and they end up going on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dating a Widow

“Pete? It’s Liz,” she said, trying to make her voice sound really raspy and hoarse. “I’ll be staying home today. I’m feeling really ill.”  
She coughed a couple of times for good measure, making sure that her cell phone caught the sound real well.  
“Come on, Liz,” Pete said. “I know your fake cough. What’s going on?”  
Liz sighed, and may have rolled her eyes a little.  
“I have a date,” she said. “With a guy. A hot guy. With hair. Who has a job, is a few years younger than me and wants to go see a play.”  
“Gay,” Pete said.  
“He’s not gay,” Liz said. “He’s had girlfriends. He showed me pictures.”  
“Were they taken through a telephoto lens?”  
“Very funny, Pete,” Liz said. “Anyway, I know that if I go into work, something will happen to prevent me from going on the date. So I’m not. Going to work, that is. I’m going to stay home, sit perfectly still and stare at the wallpaper.”  
“Why not the TV?”  
“There may be something sad, that’ll make me cry, which would make my eyes puffy and red, so I’d have to wait until I looked OK again, and that’d make me late.”  
She could just about hear Pete roll his eyes.  
“All right,” he said. “I’ll cover for you. On one condition.”  
“Name it.”  
“On Friday, you call my wife and say that I have to work late,” Pete said, “while I really go to a secluded corner of the nearest part and drink the bottle of tequila I stole from the cache Jenna doesn’t know I know about.”  
“Can I blame Tracy?” Liz said.  
“Works for me.”  
“You’ve got a deal, man!”  
“OK,” Pete said. “Good luck with your date.”  
“Don’t worry,” Liz said. “Nothing short of an alien invasion can stop me.”

Liz was halfway to the subway when she saw the invading aliens. A swarm of them, bipedal yet insect-like, on what looked most of all like flying motorcycles designed by H R Giger. They were streaming out of some kind of hole in the sky, hundreds upon hundreds of them.  
“Oh, _come on_!” she said, staring at them in disbelief. “That was just a figure of speech!”  
A few seconds later it occurred to her that for once it might be a good idea to do the same thing as everyone else. She started running away as fast as her high-heeled shoes could carry her. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t very fast at all. Only a hundred yards or so down the street, the horrible noise of the aliens’ weapons tearing up everything they hit came too close to be healthy. Desperate and out of ideas, Liz hunkered down behind an overturned and smoking car. She hunched over, trying to make herself into as small and insignificant target as possible. Then she waited for death.  
That’s what she got for being optimistic. Fancy new dress that showed off more skin than she was comfortable with, but that Cerie had approved of. New shoes. Fresh haircut, even if in her usual style. In a fit of optimism, she’d even put on some relatively racy underwear. All of which meant that she’d leave a much better-looking corpse than she’d imagined. Not that that was difficult, since what she’d imagined was that she’d die alone from a heart attack and be eaten by her many cats.  
“Are you OK?”  
It took Liz a moment to register that someone had spoken. Someone right next to her. She unwrapped her arms from around her head and looked up.  
A woman was crouching next to her. A woman in a black catsuit with a tool belt, gun holsters and weird things around the wrists. She had deep red hair that not quite reached her shoulders, intensely blue eyes and curves. A _lot_ of curves. The kind of curves that Jenna would kill for, although Liz had a feeling trying to kill this particular woman would be a serious mistake.  
“Are you hurt?” the woman said.  
Liz shook her head.  
“No,” she said. “I’m fine.”  
The woman nodded.  
“Good,” she said.  
She stuck her head above the car for a split second. She frowned and sat down, leaning against the car.  
“The wave is moving east,” she said. “About a minute and I can get moving.”  
“Er, all right,” Liz said.  
“You wait ten seconds after I leave, then run for the subway entrance around the corner,” the redhead said. “There should be help there. If not, at least it’s got cover from above.”  
“Ok,” Liz said. “Ten seconds. Got it.”  
The woman looked at her, then smiled. The smile lit up her face in a way that made Liz feel funny inside.  
“Nice dress,” she said. “Going on a date?”  
“I’m pretty sure that’s cancelled,” Liz said. “But at least alien invasion is a new reason!”  
“That’s good,” the woman said. “Keeping your mood up helps. I’m sure someone as good-looking as you will get a new one in no time.”  
Liz’ eyebrows shot rose.  
“What the what now?” she said.  
The woman looked over the top of the car again.  
“Almost time,” she said.  
She smiled again, although this time the smile was a bit crooked and sultry.  
“Kiss for good luck?” she said.  
For a split second Liz saw the woman’s gaze fall to Liz’ cleavage.  
“Er,” Liz said. “Ok.”  
As soon as the words were out, the woman moved over to Liz, put one arm around her and pulled her close. Liz gasped. The woman was _strong_. Also, all those curves of hers were suddenly pressing against Liz, and her lips were touching Liz’. As of their own volition, Liz’ arms went around the black-clad woman and her mouth opened to let the woman’s tongue in. Her arms moved over the smooth fabric of the catsuit, down the back to the very well-shaped ass. She closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, marveling at the fantastic feeling of those soft lips and that wonderful body against her own.  
Suddenly, the woman withdrew.  
“Remember,” she said. “Ten seconds, then run for the subway.”  
She put one hand on the top of the car and jumped over it in a single bound. Before she hit the ground on the other side, she’d drawn her guns and was firing at the flying aliens. Liz stared after her, head still spinning and heart still beating about a million beats per minute. That had felt _amazing_. It was easily the best kiss Liz had had in her entire life. She’d certainly never before gotten as aroused as fast.  
Particularly not from another woman.  
Liz shook her head to clear it, then ran for her life.

The next day was disappointingly normal. The house where Liz lived was unharmed, as was Rockefeller Center. The subway was even running. For lack of an excuse, she made her way to work. The day before felt like a crazy dream, and if not for the plentiful signs of damage all over the city she might have thought it was one. But apparently it had happened. Another date had ended in disaster before it even began. All her effort wasted. The dress had gotten torn at some point, a huge rip revealing much of her upper body, so she couldn’t even return it to the store.  
She tried not to think about the amazing soldier woman and the absolutely fantastic kiss. The implications of that were too disturbing. As a defense, she tried to sink into routine. Grab a mug of coffee. Say good morning to Kenneth. Nod at all the staff whose names she never remembered. Walk into the writers’ room. Be met with… cheering and applause?  
Liz stopped dead.  
“What?” she said.  
Frank and Sue were openly leering at her. Toofer looked both embarrassed and excited. Lutz was sweating and looking vaguely aroused. Pete was smiling. Even Cerie looked up from filing her nails.  
“Good morning, miss Lemon,” she said. “You’re so brave to do it like that. I never thought you would do it at all.”  
Liz looked around.  
“Do what?” she said.  
“This,” Frank said.  
He aimed a remote at the wall-mounted TV and pushed a button. The TV came to life, showing news footage. A New York street, with alien invaders flying above it. There were overturned cars, running people, explosions, all the things she remembered from the day before. The street looked very much like the one she’d been on.  
Too much like.  
At the same moment as realization struck, the camera zoomed in on a turned-over car. Two people were crouching behind it. Two women. A redhead in a black jumpsuit and a brunette in a nice blue dress. Two women who were kissing. The one in the blue dress was groping the redhead’s butt, and a large tear in the dress gave the camera a clear view of the black lace bra under it.  
“Oh my God,” Liz said.  
For a brief moment she thought that it might just be a small, local channel. Then she saw the CNN logo in the corner and failed to stifle a groan.  
“I officially declare,” Frank said, “that I am impressed. Making out with an actual real-life superhero is so boss. Liz Lemon, I will never make fun of your love life again, or my name isn’t Tarzan, King of the Jungle.”  
“Your name isn’t… oh never mind,” Liz said. “It’s nothing, guys. She was just some soldier who wanted a kiss for good luck.”  
“Wait,” Toofer said. “You actually don’t know who that was? Don’t you watch the news?”  
“Only when we run completely out of ideas,” Liz said. “Are you saying that was someone famous?”  
“That was the Black Widow!” Lutz said. “She’s nearly as hot as Thor!”  
His gaze darted nervously around the room.   
“Or so I’m told,” he added.  
Liz’ smile widened.  
“And Thor is…?”  
Frank threw out his arms.  
“Are you kidding?!” he said. “They’re the Avengers! They saved the world!”  
Liz looked blank.  
“Granted, they’ve only been famous since yesterday,” Pete said.  
“Oh, oh!” Frank said, waving at Pete. “How about Iron Man? Tony Stark? He’s been famous for ages!”  
“Yes!” Liz said. “I know about him!”  
“So it’s him, a green indestructible super-strong scientist, a Norse god, a guy with a bow and arrows, and this hot ninja chick you kissed.”  
“Seriously? _That’s_ who saved the world? Also, a _god_? Really?”  
“He’s actually an alien,” Toofer said. “Gods don’t exist.”  
“OK,” Liz said. “So I kissed a superhero, not a soldier. You can drool about it on your lunch hour. Which is not now. Now, you need to work. We have a show to make, people!”

Liz closed her office door and dropped into her chair with a sigh. So her unexpected kiss wasn’t a secret. Well, there wasn’t much to do about that other than wait it out. Yes, sure, her horrible subordinates would keep joking about her being a lesbian for a few more years, but that was more of a difference in exactly what they were teasing her about rather than if they were teasing her in the first place. She could live with that. The eye of the public was more problematic, but the media had the attention span of a mentally deficient chihuahua on speed, so that would be replaced with something else in a day or two. She could make it through.  
Repressing the memory of the kiss itself would be harder. Liz had spent a disturbingly large part of the night getting herself off to the memory of the black-clad woman’s touch. Those lips. That low sultry voice. That _body_. The feeling of her boobs pressing against Liz’ own. Liz was getting all worked up again just thinking about it, and she wasn’t sure how to handle that. Her life so far had not exactly given her much experience in how to deal with excessive sexual feelings. But it’d work out, somehow. It’d be fine. As long as nothing happened to make it worse.  
“Good morning, miss Lemon.”  
Liz just about jumped out of her chair. She looked up and the woman from the day before was standing right there, on the other side of her desk. She looked exactly the same, except cleaner and less tired. Also, she was smiling. At Liz.  
“There wasn’t time for introductions yesterday,” she said, in that voice that seemed to go right to Liz’ libido. “So I thought I’d drop by.”  
“Er,” Liz said. “Hi.”  
She looked around the room.  
“How did you get in here?” she said. “The pervs out there definitely would’ve told me if they’d seen you enter.”  
The woman sat down on the edge of Liz’ desk and held out her hand.  
“Natasha,” she said. “Pleased to meet you, Elizabeth.”  
“Wow, your lips look good,” Liz said.  
She shook her head and took the offered hand.  
“I mean, it’s a pleasure meeting you too,” she said.  
She frowned.  
“Don’t get me wrong, but why are you here? Also, _how_ are you here? I never told you who I am.”  
“The various news stations obligingly informed me that the hottie I stole a kiss from was the head writer of a TV show I like.”  
Liz wished she had chosen less dull clothes than her usual plaid shirt and jacket. Also, she suddenly realized she was still holding on to Natasha’s hand. She hurriedly let go. Although the insanely hot superhero hadn’t exactly shown any hurry to lose the contact.  
“You watch TGS?” Liz said.  
“I do,” Natasha said. “Although I should admit it’s only if I happen to be free when you air, and I feel like watching something that doesn’t demand much thought. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”  
Liz threw up her hands.  
“I write the fart doctor,” she said. “If we demanded less thought than that, we couldn’t use language. Which, given Tracy’s acting, we just barely do now.”  
“Nevertheless, I doubt I could do what you do,” Natasha said. “Producing an hour of comedy on schedule every week can’t be easy.”  
“It’s more like forty minutes, after commercials,” Liz said. “And I’m pretty sure it’s easier than fighting alien invasions.”  
“I’ve only done that twice,” Natasha said. “My job is usually more mundane.”  
“Twice?” Liz said. “And here I didn’t even know there had been more than one. Well, you learn something new every day.”  
“I could be here just to check that you got away unharmed,” Natasha said.  
“I did, thank you.”  
“But that’s not actually why.”  
“All right,” Natasha said. “I could get you autographs from Tracy and Jenna, if you want.”  
Natasha smiled.  
“Thanks, but I’m not that big a fan,” she said.  
“Fair enough,” Liz said. “So why are you here?”  
“I want to ask you on a date,” Natasha said.  
Liz just looked at her. Things had just tipped over from seriously weird to outright surreal.  
“Me,” she said. “A date.”  
Natasha nodded.  
“I’m forty,” Liz said. “My love life is nearly non-existent, and what there is is a mess.”  
“So what do you have to lose?” Natasha said.  
It was a good question. And she knew that normally she’d be able to rattle off a whole bunch of things she had to lose. Except that all of them seemed to have gone into hiding.  
“All right,” she said. “If you’re really sure you want to.”  
“Is Saturday all right?” Natasha said. “I’ll pick you up around seven?”  
Liz brought out her widest smile.  
“Sure!” she said. “I’ll be ready and waiting!”  
There was a knock on the door. For the shortest moment, Liz looked at it, and when she looked back Natasha was gone.  
“Oh, nerds,” she said silently to herself.  
“Yes, come on in,” she added more loudly.  
Peter stuck his head in the door.  
“Who are you talking to?” he said.  
“My hallucinations,” Liz said. “Only way to get any good conversation around here.”  
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” he said. “I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

With a well-practiced move, Liz dodged Jonathan’s attempt to prevent her from entering Jack’s office, and stormed in the door.  
“Jack!” she said. “I think I have a problem.”  
Jack looked up from the document he was leafing through.  
“That’s not exactly news, Lemon,” he said.  
She gave him a tired look.  
“I think I have a _new_ problem,” she said.  
He gestured at the couch.  
“Sit down, Lemon,” he said.  
He started pouring two glasses of whisky.  
“Would this problem happen to have something to do with a certain red-headed superheroine?” he said.  
“Superhero,” Liz said. “And yes. She asked me on a date! Unless I was hallucinating. She did leave my office very quickly and silently.”  
“I gather that’s one of the things she does,” Jack said.  
He handed Liz one of the glasses and sat down himself. She took the glass and frowned.  
“One of the things she does?” she said. “You know about her? Also, what is one of the things she does? Leave stealthily or ask women on dates?”  
“Yes, I do,” Jack said. “And both, actually. She also arrives just as shadow-like and asks men on dates. Occasionally.”  
“So all this is _real_?” Liz said. “Superheroes and aliens and secret government organizations and stuff?”  
“Indeed it is,” Jack said. “In the past, it has been my privilege to help out a couple of times. Mostly making sure things don’t catch the attention of the liberal media. A playboy billionaire kidnapped in Afghanistan, a small town in New Mexico destroyed, things like that.”  
Liz stared at him.  
“No,” she finally said. “I can’t process that right now. Let’s get back to me being asked on a date.”  
“As you wish,” Jack said. “What about it?”  
“Well, to begin with,” Liz said, “she’s a woman.”  
“So?” Jack said. “Aren’t you yourself the one who has, repeatedly and at length, told me that all forms of adult informed mutually consenting love is acceptable? Men with men? Women with women? Republicans with Democrats?”  
“Yes,” Liz said, nodding, “I have said that, but…”  
“But what?” Jack interrupted. “It’s not OK because it’s you? Perhaps not. But are you sure about that?”  
“Well…”  
“Look at it this way, Lemon,” Jack said. “You’re being proposed by the Black Widow herself. By Natasha Romanoff. The apex of Soviet super-spy engineering, unparalleled not only at hand-to-hand combat, acrobatics and stealth, but also at intrigue and seduction. The crowning achievement of a training program so harsh and uncompromising that it sickened even Nixon. We had our own program, of course, but all we managed to produce was Cher. There is literally no one else in the world like Natasha Romanoff. Not only because of her background, but because after that quitter Gorbachev dismantled the Soviet Union and she came over to our side, she sought out every other graduate of the Black Widow program – and killed them.”  
“Are you trying to convince me to go or to scare me off?” Liz said, aghast. “Because super-spy assassin sounds kind of scary. Also, how old _is_ she?”  
Jack stood up and went to refill his glass.  
“Rumor has it,” he said, “that she was found as an orphan scavenging for food during the Battle of Stalingrad.”  
Liz frowned.  
“That was in 1942!” she said. “So she’s, what, almost 80 years old?!”  
Jack smiled.  
“Doesn’t look it, does she?” he said. “You’ve got to hand it to those commie bastards, they sure knew what they were doing when it came to secret military projects.”  
“God!” Liz said. “Now I’m afraid to disappoint her! What if she kills me!”  
Jack waved gently but firmly at her.  
“Calm down, Lemon,” he said. “She’s a good guy now. She’s been on some sort of ridiculous redemption binge since 1991. If you disappoint her, she’ll probably apologize for wasting your time.”  
He sat down again.  
“The point I’m trying to make is that apart from the fighting and killing, she’s been seducing and smooching her way through the cream of society for half a century. When it comes to having a good time and, yes, sex, there is nothing this woman does not know. And, for God knows what reason, she has chosen to wind down after a stressful incident with you, Liz Lemon. This is the closest you will ever get to being the girl who’s with James Bond in the closing scene of the movie. Not even you can walk away from a chance like that, Lemon.”  
“But…a woman?”  
“Be honest, Lemon. You don’t even like sex with men. What difference does it make if you don’t like it with a woman instead?”

The bit that Liz had carefully avoided letting Jack know was, of course, that she wanted to have sex with Natasha. Badly. For the first time in, well, _ever_ , she kind of understood other people’s fascination with Cerie. If Natasha had been dressing and acting like the young blonde assistant often did, Liz would’ve been right there with them drooling.   
So she was going on this date. Oh, yes, she was. Big time. And she hoped it was going to lead to sexy times. Which led to the question of what to wear. The dress – and underwear – she’d been wearing during the invasion had obviously been a hit, but that dress was destroyed. Also she had no idea what kind of activity the evening would bring. Did bio-engineered super-spies go out to restaurants like normal people? Would she want to stay in and watch gameshows? Would she take Liz to some incredible high-society thing? Bring her to a secret sex-dungeon? If so, would Jenna be there?  
In any case, she needed help coming up with something.

“Cerie? Do you have a moment?”  
Liz looked down at the gorgeous young woman who was, at least in theory, Liz’ assistant. At the moment, she was sitting behind her desk in the writer’s room, painting her nails and ignoring the ringing phone lines.  
“Of course, miss Lemon,” Cerie said.  
Liz turned her head for a moment to check that none of the guys were listening.  
“I know you’re pretty popular with the guys,” Liz said. “So I thought you might have some tips on how to dress to reel someone in. Even if it’s not actually a guy.”  
Cerie looked blank.  
“What do you mean?” she said.  
“You know,” Liz said. “How do you dress to make yourself extra attractive. To catch the attention of that special someone. To get the one you really want.”  
Cerie just looked at her for a few seconds, her face filled with vague confusion.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, miss Lemon,” she said.  
Liz’ shoulders fell.  
“Of course you don’t,” she said. “Never mind, Cerie. Go back to not even pretending to work.”

Liz opened the dressing room door and looked inside.  
“Jenna?” she said. “Do you have a moment?”  
Jenna spun away from her mirror to face Liz.  
“I didn’t take it!” she said. “It… fell into my pocket!”  
“OK,” Liz said, sitting down on the couch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, nor do I care. I’m just wondering if you happen to have any tips on how an unnamed person might make herself look attractive. In a sexual sense.”  
Jenna turned fully toward Liz.  
“Do I?” she giggled. “And I mean that I do. I really, really do. To begin with, it’s important to know your context. What works at your typical Lindsay coke-fueled orgy doesn’t work at all if you’re trying to land a job as a news anchor at CBS. To take an _entirely_ theoretical example that certainly did not happen to me.”  
“A date!” Liz interrupted. “Just an ordinary, out on the town date! No coke. No orgies. No job interviews.”  
“Oh,” Jenna said.  
She shrugged.  
“Just go with the standards, I guess,” she said. “Deep cleavage, short skirt, blonde dye job – not that _I_ would need _that_ – and six-inch heels. If you want to get fancy I know a place that sells blouses that will melt if they get wet. Very useful if you know it’s going to rain later in the evening, but it leaves you extra vulnerable to angry wives throwing drinks at you.”  
Liz smiled.  
“Right,” she said. “Thanks for the advice.”

She managed to get so caught up in the whole how to dress thing that it was already late Saturday afternoon when she started worrying that Natasha hadn’t said _where_ she would pick Liz up. On the theory that a super-spy who’d been able to find her office could also find her apartment, she stayed home.  
Seven o’clock found her dressed in a new dress much like the one that had gotten destroyed in the alien invasion, the raciest underwear she’d been able to buy with only a moderate amount of blushing, and sensible shoes. The shoes were in case they were going to do something requiring walking. The dress covered them, at least when she was standing still. Which she, for once, cared about. Which did feel a little like betraying her principles, but she wanted to look nice for Natasha. So she found herself doing these things she normally didn’t do. Like put on makeup. Then taking the makeup off, because it looked like a six-year-old got into her mom’s makeup kit. Then put some on again, but much, much less of it. Then actually not stress-eating a bag of Cheez-Itz, since she already felt like she might throw up.  
When the phone rang, she startled hard enough that she banged her knee into the underside of the table so hard she saw stars.  
“Ow!” she said into the phone, once she’d grabbed hold of it and pressed the answer button.  
“Miss Lemon?” a confused male voice said.  
“Yes,” Liz said. “That’s me.”  
“This is the doorman,” the guy on the phone said. “There is a… car here. The driver says he’s here to pick you up.”  
“Right,” Liz said. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”

“Wow,” Liz said some time later. “I’ve never seen a car this big.”  
“I’m staying at Stark Tower at the moment,” Natasha said. “I asked for an impressive car and this is what they gave me.”  
They were sitting next to each other on the rear seat of the longest limousine Liz had ever seen. It must be a real bother to drive it in Manhattan traffic, but fortunately that was not her problem. It was the problem of the driver, who presumably came with the car. Not that she’d seen him. When she approached the car, the passenger door had opened on its own.  
The passenger compartment felt more like a lusciously decorated cave than a vehicle. The seat they were on was far more comfortable than Liz’ couch. The wet bar was to be expected, of course, but the selection in it was insane. Liz had been to actual bars with less variety of drink available. There was another seat facing the rear one, but it was far enough away that if someone had been sitting there it would’ve been uncomfortable to try and talk to them.  
And then there was Natasha, sitting there right next to her. Close enough that Liz could almost feel the heat radiating from her body.  
Natasha was wearing a dress. A proverbial little black cocktail dress. It showed a generous amount of cleavage at the upper end, and more than half her thighs at the lower. In between it was form-fitting enough that it could almost have been painted on. The only thing that made it even slightly modest was its color, which was a matte black so deep it was hard for the eye to focus on. Together with the obviously expensive high-heeled shoes, the perfect makeup and the professionally made hair, she made Liz feel badly underdressed.  
Natasha smiled at her.  
“I apologize,” she said.  
Liz frowned.  
“For what?”  
“Overdressing,” she said. “I wanted too look irresistibly good to you, but instead I’m making you feel bad.”  
Liz gave her a crooked smile.  
“Don’t worry,” she said. “You could dress in a burlap sack and you’d still look better than I do on my best day.”  
Natasha’s eyebrow rose.  
“You underestimate yourself,” she said. “Quite badly. You’re a very attractive woman, miss Lemon.”  
Liz gave a brief, dry laugh.  
“There are quite a few guys who’d disagree with you there,” she said.  
“Undoubtedly,” Natasha said. “But what was it they found unattractive? It was never your appearance, was it? It was always who you were. Your intelligence. Your strength of will. Your opinions. Your determination. They couldn’t deal with you, because you challenged them. You made them feel uncomfortable. Threatened.”  
“Well,…” Liz started saying.  
Natasha put her hand on Liz’ thigh.  
“Am I wrong?” she said. “Was there even one of those men who actually liked you being smarter than them? Did any one of them give your life and your career priority over their own, or did they all expect you to sacrifice yours for theirs?”  
Faces flew past Liz’ inner eye. Dennis. Floyd. Drew. Wesley. Carol.  
Natasha’s point was depressingly valid.  
“I’ll readily admit that I gave you that first kiss just because I found you attractive,” Natasha went on. “Pure shallow lust. But when the picture of us turned up on the news, and I learned that you were the head writer of a show I actually watch, then I got intrigued. Then I decided to look you up and ask for a date. Because I like my women strong, smart and successful.”  
Her hand moved down Liz’ leg.  
“And, of course, gorgeous,” she added.  
Liz’ head was spinning. She wasn’t used to such outright flattery. Or being felt up by insanely hot superheroes.  
She liked it. Experimentally, she ran the tips of her fingers down Natasha’s upper arm.  
“There is one thing I should make clear from the start,” Natasha said.  
Liz pulled her hand away.  
“Oh,” she said.  
Natasha took Liz’ hand and put it back.  
“My life is very unpredictable,” she said. “I can make no promises. I’ve tried to make sure that I won’t be disturbed tonight, but if something sufficiently bad happens I may have to leave without warning. And it may happen that tomorrow I’ll have to go far away for a long time, possibly years.”  
She stroked Liz’ cheek.  
“If that happens,” she said, “if I go away and you never see me again, be sure that it was not something you did. I’m older than I look. There’s precious little you can do that I haven’t seen before, and nothing that would upset me enough to leave without a word.”  
Her fingers travelled down to rest on Liz’ lips for a moment, and then to slide along the scar below Liz’ mouth. Her eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness.  
“And also,” she said. “If there is something you want to do, don’t wait. No one knows what the future will bring. Tonight may be the only chance you get.”  
Liz looked at Natasha. Somehow, their faces had moved really close. Liz had her hand on Natasha’s arm, and Natasha hers on Liz’ face. That whole speech was the most eloquent and clearest invitation she’d ever had on a date. Plus she was already more turned on than she’d ever gotten with most of her partners. She slid her fingers from Natasha’s arm, along her shoulder and down her chest until they were resting on the top the black dress right between Natasha’s ample breasts.  
“Don’t wait?” she said.  
Natasha smiled at her.  
“We have dinner reservations,” she said. “But they _will_ wait.”  
Liz gathered all her courage, hooked her finger under the cloth and pulled slowly down. She waited for a protest or for her hand to be slapped away, but all she got was a smile. She kept pulling until the slightly stretchy fabric slid in and bunched under Natasha’s breasts, leaving them bare. Liz swallowed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of them.  
“In the interest of clarity,” Natasha said, “perhaps I should say what I want out of this night.”  
“Er, sure,” Liz said.  
“I want to have fun,” Natasha said. “I want to have pleasure. I want not to care about the future. I want to relax. To let go. To enjoy myself without worrying about the future.”  
“OK,” Liz said. “That sounds fine to me.”  
Natasha took Liz’ hands and put them on her naked breasts. On some level, they felt much like Liz’ own breasts. Maybe a little bigger, somewhat more firm. Slightly smaller nipples and paler areola. At the same time, fondling them was absolutely nothing at all like touching her own. Unable to help herself, she squeezed them. Ran her thumbs over the rapidly stiffening nipples. While she was doing that, a hand was finding its way in under her dress and up the inside of her thigh. She spread her legs, to give the hand plenty of room. It didn’t take it long to reach the drenched lace of her underwear. A finger gently made its way inside the lace and between her slick labia. Liz moaned.  
“Kiss me,” Natasha whispered in Liz’ ear. “Straddle my lap and kiss me.”  
Carefully yet as fast as she could, Liz turned and put one leg across Natasha’s mostly bare ones. While she did so, the finger at her pussy stayed right where it was, slowly stroking up and down her slit and sending shivers of pleasure through her body. As soon as she could, she caught Natasha’s mouth with her own and kissed her deep and hard. At the same time as her tongue entered Natasha’s eager mouth, the deliciously torturing finger entered Liz. Her hips started moving without any conscious thought, and what her hands was now doing to Natasha’s breasts was less caressing and more mauling. It seemed Natasha liked this just fine. At least one more finger joined the first one in Liz’ pussy.  
“Yes!” Liz yelled, breaking the kiss. “God yes!”  
She fucked herself onto Natasha’s fingers, riding them faster and more desperately than she ever had anything before. It felt so amazingly good. Not just the hand between her legs, but the bare skin of Natasha’s thighs under her own, Natasha’s breasts in her hands, Natasha’s teeth teasing the skin of Liz’ throat, it all felt so damn good. Liz hardly even reacted when she banged her head into the car ceiling. All her senses were fully occupied taking in the woman under her and the wonderful things she was doing.  
“More,” Liz gasped. “Please, more.”  
Natasha did something to Liz’ vulva. Liz had no idea what. She’d never felt anything like it before. Nor did she care. Her whole world narrowed down to the utterly exquisite pleasure of it. She could vaguely hear herself screaming her lungs out as an unstoppable wave of ecstasy tore through her, and for a moment that was both infinitely long and far too brief thought stopped and everything that existed was pleasure.

“Does this mean I’m a lesbian now?” Liz said a while later.  
She was lying on the limo’s rear seat, with her head resting on Natasha’s bare thigh.  
“Well, it certainly looked like you enjoyed it,” Natasha said, “so I’d say you’re somewhere higher than zero on the Kinsey scale.”  
Liz thought about that for a moment or two. She shrugged, as well as possible while lying down.  
“I guess,” she said.  
She tilted her head back to look up at Natasha. Who had, to Liz’ slight disappointment, pulled her dress back up to cover her breasts.  
“I didn’t make you come,” Liz said.  
Natasha smiled at her and stroked her hair.  
“Don’t worry,” she said. “The night is young. You’ll get your chance.”  
She moved her hand from Liz’ hair and let it rest on her belly instead.  
“Do you have any ideas what you want to do now?” she said.  
“Not really,” Liz said. “I’m already way out in uncharted waters.”  
“In addition to dinner, I tried to find something that you might find fun,” Natasha said. “I’ve got a couple of suggestions.”  
“Let’s hear them,” Liz said. “I’m feeling wild and crazy tonight.”  
“All right,” Natasha said. “First, there is this artist in the Greenwich Village, who makes sculptures out of cheese. He presents each batch at midnight, and there is an auction for them. The catch is that you can’t take them with you, you have to eat them right there. Helped by your party, and copious amounts of wine, of course. I’m told that tonight he’ll be presenting a series of statues of the heroes who saved New York from the alien invasion.”  
Liz hesitated.  
“That’s the worst setup for an ‘eating you’ joke I’ve ever heard,” she said. “And I’m the boss of a bunch of writers with really puerile imaginations.”  
Natasha laughed.  
“I actually was going to ask you to take a picture of me biting the Hulk’s head off,” she said. “Although me eating myself has a certain charm too.”  
“That was one suggestion,” Liz said. “You hinted there were more.”  
“Second,” Natasha said. “There’s a cosplay competition. With a Star Wars theme. And I have some of the best costumers in the world on twenty-four seven standby.”  
As she spoke, her hand slowly moved to cup Liz’ left breast.  
“So, Liz Lemon,” Natasha said. “Do you want to see me in a gold bikini? I’m sure you can think of some suitable costume for yourself to go with that. And after we win, maybe we could do a bit of… roleplaying.”  
Liz’ went from sated to sex-starved in a split second. Yes, she wanted to see Natasha dressed up as slave Leia all right. She licked her lips.  
“I can think of something,” she said. “There’s this fantasy I’ve had for _years_.”  
Natasha nodded.  
“Cosplay competition it is, then,” she said.  
She pushed a button on the wall and gave a brief instruction, presumably to the driver.  
“It’ll be a while before we’re at the restaurant,” she said. “The costumers will need some time to prepare and plan, so we may as well eat before we go there.”  
She lifted Liz gently into a sitting position, then scooted forward and spread her legs wide. The dress rode up her legs and settled around her hips, almost as if it had been designed to do that.  
“Now why don’t you kneel in front of me and challenge your newfound lesbianism?” she said.  
Liz smiled. That sounded like an excellent idea. Without a word, she got down on the limo’s floor, put her face to Natasha’s crotch and set to repaying her orgasm with great enthusiasm.

“I probably shouldn’t ask this,” Liz said some time later.  
She was standing on a small podium, surrounded by three middle-aged women taking measurements on her.  
Natasha shrugged.  
“Ask away,” she said.  
“How are you paying for all this?” Liz said. “I mean, the limo, that dinner, this place, it all seems very expensive.”  
The pace they were in looked like a collision between a sewing studio and a special effects workshop. It had a bunch of machines that Liz had no idea what they did, but which she assumed cost a pretty penny. Not to mention that they seemed to have at least five people just waiting to spring into action on a Saturday night.  
“Does the government pay for this?” Liz said. “The military? Eccentric billionaire?”  
“This place is a special arrangement that I made many years ago,” Natasha said. “As for the rest of the evening…”  
She took a credit card out from somewhere in her dress and handed it to Liz. Liz looked at it. It was a plain white card with a holographic American Express logo on it. In embossed letters along the bottom of the card, a name was written.  
“Tony Stark?!” Liz said. “Why do you have _his_ credit card?”  
“Pepper gave it to me,” Natasha said. “I believe anything we charge to it tonight gets put on the budget item ‘Compensation for Tony being an ass’.”  
Liz looked at Natasha.  
“You’re serious,” she said.  
Natasha nodded.  
“It’s a much larger budget item than might think,” Natasha said. “Even if you know Tony.”  
“I suppose he can afford it,” Liz said.  
“Oh yes,” Natasha said. “It’s not like he’ll notice, in a financial sense. It’s mainly there so that Pepper can have something to yell at him for when they argue.”  
That made as much sense as anything else Liz had heard since she entered Natasha’s limo. She shrugged and gave Natasha the credit card back.  
“OK,” she said.  
One of the women with the measuring devices patted Liz on the hip.  
“We’re done, miss,” she said. “The costume will be ready in nineteen minutes.”  
Natasha nodded at her.  
“Good,” she said.

They ran out of the auditorium as soon as they were announced the winners. Natasha had insisted on that in advance, saying that she was sure to have been recognized and she didn’t feel like dealing with overly enthusiastic fans. Particularly not crowds of them when she was dressed in nothing but high heels and a bikini largely made from stiff golden plastic. Liz wouldn’t have minded staying to receive their well-earned adulations, but she easily understood Natasha’s worry. Also, the prospect of getting to actually fuck her golden-bikini-clad Leia easily trumped any amount of cheering and applause.  
She was astonished at how good the costumes were. If you didn’t look too closely at Natasha’s face she was the spitting image of the movie’s Leia. Which, given that Natasha didn’t look much like Carrie Fisher at all, was amazing. Sure, Liz got how a really good wig could change Natasha’s hair completely, and clever makeup made the different facial features less obvious. What she didn’t get was how the spy had managed to appear less curvaceous than she was. And Liz knew she was. Intimately. Maybe it was the bikini. It was stiff in places, and perhaps it managed to throw shadows in just the right way to trick the eye. Or something like that.  
Natasha tore the limo door open and dove inside. She knelt on the large empty floor and looked back at Liz over her shoulder.  
“Well, my hero?” she said. “Aren’t you going to come claim your reward? I’m aching to give it to you.”  
Her voice was pitched at a dusky tone that went straight to Liz’ crotch. Liz clambered inside the car a lot less smoothly than Natasha had. Partly because she was just a lot less agile than the superhero, and partly because she was covered in a lot more costume. She hurriedly pulled the door closed behind her. The instant it slammed shut, the limo began to move.  
Natasha rose up on her spread knees. Her fingers did something to the sides of her bikini bottoms that made them come loose. She flung them aside, then leaned forward and gave Liz a clear view of her vulva.  
“Come here,” Natasha purred. “Give me some of that wookie love.”  
Liz threw her head back and did her best imitation of a Chewbacca growl accompanied with the appropriate chest-banging . The mostly empty head of the costume banged against the car ceiling with a hollow thump, taking away much of the effect. But never mind. Liz hunched down further and walked closer to Natasha as well as she could on her knees. Natasha reached behind herself to Liz’ crotch, where she deftly pulled down the hidden zipper. The long, thick and bright blue strap-on Liz was wearing sprung out like the piece of rubbery plastic it was.  
“Ooh, look at that,” Natasha said. “Now that looks promising.”  
She turned around, bowed down and took the dildo into her mouth. Before Liz really got what was happening, she felt Natasha’s nose poke her lower stomach through the wookie suit. It took a moment for the realization that Natasha had gotten the entire dildo down her throat in one swift movement to sink in. By the time an “Oh my God” was on its way out of Liz’ mouth, Natasha had withdrawn and was turning around again, leaving the plastic phallus glistening wetly. Natasha got down on her elbows and widely separated knees. Again, she looked over her shoulder up at Liz.  
“Fuck me, Chewie,” she said. “Fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”  
She reached back between her own spread legs and opened her nether lips, revealing the pink, wet opening between them. For a few breaths, Liz just stared. Then she let out a wookieish howl, put her fur-clad hands on Natasha’s hips, put the tip of the blue plastic rod at the offered opening and none too gently pushed it inside. Natasha drew a sharp breath and arched her back.  
“Oh yes!” she said. “Harder!”  
As request, Liz made the next stroke harder, and the one after that harder still. She was still a bit careful, not wanting to hurt the beauty in front of her, so after that she slowed down a little. A frustrated moan came from Natasha. With a move Liz found hard to believe even though she was looking right at it, Natasha arched her back and reached straight back with her arms until she could grab hold of of the wookie suit’s fur. She pulled, hard, forcing herself powerfully onto the strap-on.  
“Come on!” she said. “I thought wookies were supposed to be strong!”  
Liz grabbed a firmer hold of Natasha’s hips and started ramming the dildo into her as fast and as hard as she could. It didn’t take many strokes before Natasha let go of the suit and returned her arms to a more natural position on the limo floor. Her head soon joined them, eyes closed and mouth open. Jolts travelled through her body at every stroke, making her breasts jiggle in their plastic prisons.   
As much as the visual appealed to Liz’ imagination, she wanted to see those breasts in their own considerable glory. She pulled at the bra’s back strap and made a wookie howl. It took a few pulls and howls, but eventually Natasha seemed to get the idea. Although rather than reaching back and undoing it, as Liz had expected, she just took hold of its front and ripped it loose with a single pull. It remained hanging from her neck. Which Liz didn’t mind at all. That, the hairstyle and the makeup made Natasha still look a lot like Leia. Still fucking away as hard and fast as she could, Liz reached forward and grabbed the just-released boobs with her furry mitts. She tried to pinch Natasha’s nipples, but the suit gloves weren’t nimble enough. She settled for grabbing really quite hard. Which seemed to excite Natasha another little bit, so she upped it to as hard as she could. Then she just kept going, hoping her stamina would last until Natasha came. And that she herself wouldn’t come until Natasha did. The harness wasn’t really made to stimulate the wearer, but it still hit some pretty good spots, particularly when used as ungently as she was. That, combined with the pure wish-fulfillment visual in front of her, was slowly but surely getting her more and more excited.  
She kept going and going, breath heavy and sweat pouring down her face. The door to the limo’s minibar had a well-polished black surface, in which she could see herself. Or, well, not exactly herself. Not Liz Lemon and not Natasha Romanoff. She could see Chewbacca, on his knees, hunched over the princess Leia dressed in nothing but a torn-off golden bra and a slave collar. Fucking her wildly from behind. As Liz watched, she saw Leia-Natasha raise her head, close her eyes and bite down on a scream. Under her hands, she faintly felt Natasha tense up and shiver. She rammed the dildo in as deep as it’d go one final time, then held still except for rubbing herself against the end of the dildo until a small but still satisfying climax swept through her. When Natasha finally let out her breath and relaxed, Liz gently pulled the dildo out of her and let go of her breasts.  
Then she frantically unzipped the wookie suit, desperate for some cool air.  
“Are you OK?” she said, tossing the Chewbacca head aside.  
Natasha nodded.  
Liz removed the rest of the costume and the harness, leaving her in only her underwear. She laid down next to Natasha.  
“Did you have fun?” she asked.  
Natasha rolled over on her back. She didn’t look all that much like Leia any more.  
“I did,” she said. “Did you get what you wanted?”  
Liz looked at her and smiled.  
“I’m half convinced I’m dreaming,” she said. “This kind of thing does not happen in real life. Particularly not in my real life. Pretty soon I’ll look away from you, and when I look back you’ll have turned into Lutz.”  
“That sounds horrible,” Natasha said. “Although since it means I’m just a dream, I don’t suppose I’d notice.”  
She took off the collar and wig, and ran her fingers through her hair.  
Liz yawned.  
“What time is it?” she asked.  
“A bit after two in the morning,” Natasha said. “Tired?”  
“A bit,” Liz said. “When do your dates usually end?”  
“When the person I’m dating is too tired to go on,” Natasha answered. “Or when I get called away on a mission.”  
“Don’t you ever get tired first?”  
“No.”  
“So if I manage to stay up until late in the morning, so can you? Unless you get called away?”  
“I can,” Natasha confirmed.  
“Do you sleep at all?”  
“Yes,” Natasha said. “About four hours a night, if there’s no reason to sleep less.”  
“You already went to an incredible amount of effort to make this an amazing date,” Liz said. “If I ask nicely, would you be interested in making it perfect?”  
Natasha smiled at her.  
“Of course,” she said. “What is it you want?”  
“I kind of always had this dream of waking up with someone, and then spend the whole day doing nothing but lounging around in bed, making love and ordering in food. And, realistically, showering. Only I never had a lover who I could stand being around for a whole day, so it kind of never happened.”  
“I can definitely think of worse ways to spend a day,” Natasha said. “I have tried a lot of them, even. So, barring, as always, the possibility that I get called in on no notice, sure.”  
Liz hadn’t really expected her to agree.  
“Oh,” she said. “Right. Let’s do that, then.”  
Natasha heaved herself up on one elbow so she could reach the button on the wall.  
“Miss Lemon’s apartment, please,” she said.  
“At once, ma’am,” the driver said.  
Natasha laid down again, resting her head on Liz’ shoulder as the car accelerated.  
“You won’t believe the kind of food you can order in when you have Tony’s credit card,” she said.

Monday morning found Liz Lemon entering 30 Rockefeller Plaza with a smile on her face and a fairly large box in her arms. She passed through the security gates with a friendly nod to the surly guards. She let someone else take the last spot in the elevator and waited for the next one twice, and she walked onto level six with an uncommon spring to her steps.  
“Good morning, miss Lemon,” Kennet said. “You look happy today. Did you have a good weekend?”  
“Yes, Kenneth, I had an amazing weekend, thank you,” Liz said. “How about you?”  
“Yes, I did, miss Lemon,” he said, smiling widely. “I spent all of it dreaming of when I’d get to go back to work again!”  
“Great!” Liz said. “Here, have a cupcake.”  
She stuck her hand in the box she was carrying and brought out a cupcake that she handed to Kenneth. The frosting on top of it formed an NBC logo.  
“Thank you, miss Lemon!” Kenneth said. “But I cannot possibly _eat_ this!”  
“I know, Kenneth,” Liz said. “It’s so chock full of preservatives that it’ll last forever, and it’s probably not edible by humans.”  
She headed for the writers’ room, but didn’t make it very many steps before she was interrupted by her two big-name actors.  
“LIZ LEMON!” Tracy said. “I heard that someone famous has a private water slide, and now I demand to get one in my dressing room, or I’ll shut myself inside and not come out until Labor Day!”  
“If he gets one,” Jenna said, “I demand to get one too, except bigger, and pink, or I won’t come out until Halloween!”  
“And a good morning to you two too,” Liz said. “Tracy, you can’t have a water slide. I’d point out the many reasons why, but I know you won’t listen, so instead I’ll give you a cupcake the size of your head.”  
She reached into her box and took out exactly that, a cupcake nearly a foot high and correspondingly wide. Tracy’s eyes widened.  
“Wow, Liz Lemon!” he said. “I’ve never had a cupcake that big! Yes!”  
He grabbed it with both hands and left, grinning widely.  
Jenna sniffed.  
“Well, that won’t do for me,” she said. “I’m on a diet, I can’t eat that much cupcake.”  
Liz took out another, ordinary-sized, cupcake.  
“Made entirely without natural ingredients,” she said. “There is absolutely nothing in this that your body can process. Zero calories, zero nutrients, some taste.”  
Jenna shone up.  
“Really?” she said. “I can have a cupcake?”  
“You can have _this_ cupcake,” Liz said, smiling.  
Jenna almost fondled the cupcake.  
“Thank you,” she giggled.  
“You’re welcome,” Liz said to her retreating back.  
She put her now much lighter box under her arm and continued on her way to her office. This time, she got almost to the door before she was accosted.  
“Oh, there you are, Liz,” Pete said. “Just a warning, Tracy and Jenna have both gone off the deep end early this week.”  
“The water slide thing?” Liz asked.  
Pete frowned.  
“Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”  
“Already fixed it,” she said.  
“You did? How?”  
“I gave them cupcakes.”  
“It was that easy?”  
“It was, since I planned ahead. I knew they were going to freak out about _something_ , so I brought distractions specially tailored to their personal quirks.”  
His expression turned suspicious.  
“What if I freak out?” he said.  
Liz took another cupcake out of the box and handed to him.  
“Ooh, it’s got candy on it!” he said.  
“Look closer,” Liz said.  
He looked closer.  
“Pills?” he asked.  
Liz nodded.  
“Valium,” she said. “If you eat the whole cupcake in one go, that’s an overdose.”  
“Sweeeet!” Pete said. “I’m saving this for… later.”  
“Thought you might,” Liz said.  
She walked into the writers’ room, casually dropping the now-empty box by the door.  
“Good morning, everyone,” she said.  
A chorus of responses flew her way.  
“So how was your date?” Frank said. “Did you score? Do you have nude pictures of her?”  
“Well,” Liz said.  
She moved to stand behind Frank and put a hand on his shoulder. She fiddled with her phone for a moment, then held it up in front of Frank.  
“Here’s a picture,” she said. “Do you recognize where it was taken?”  
“Er, that’s your kitchen,” he said.  
“Right! And who’s sitting at the table?”  
“Black Widow.”  
“What’s she wearing?”  
“Your third-favorite dressing gown?”  
“Right again! Do you know what she’s wearing under it?”  
“No?”  
Liz bent down and put her mouth right by his ear.  
“Nothing,” she said.  
Frank swallowed.  
“Right,” he said.  
“Now, do you know what she’s famous for?”  
“She saved New York?”  
“True. More?”  
“She’s one of the most dangerous assassins in the world?”  
“ _Right_ ,” Liz said. “Now, right about when I was taking that picture, I happened to mention that I was a bit worried about how much you guys were going to harass me about seeing her. So she offered to _help_.”  
She put the phone away and put both her hands on Frank’s shoulders.  
“I have her phone number,” she said. “Do you want me to call her and say that I want that help after all?”  
Frank lowered his head.  
“No,” he said.  
“Great!” Liz said. “So fix whatever prank you’ve planned, and get working, OK?”  
“Um, yeah,” Frank said. “You might want to go… get coffee or something before you go into your office.”

A few hours later, Liz was sitting at her suspiciously clean desk, staring at a blank Word document and trying to come up with a new sketch, when she felt a sudden draft against her neck.  
“Oh please,” she said. “You totally did that on purpose.”  
Natasha sat down on the edge of Liz’ desk. She was, again, dressed in her black catsuit.  
“I totally did,” she said. “Did our plan work?”  
“Beautifully,” Liz said. “They’ll probably be on their best behavior for, oh, hours. Then it’ll be back to the usual.”  
“Good,” Natasha said. “I’ll be leaving the city soon.”  
Liz leaned back in her chair and swiveled it to face Natasha.  
“And you can’t say where you’re going or when you’ll be back,” she said. “You made that quite clear from the start. No problem.”  
Natasha nodded.  
“Good,” she said. “It was a fun weekend. I may drop by when I get back.”  
“I’d love that,” Liz said. “It really was an amazing weekend.”  
Natasha gracefully slid over into Liz’ lap. She wrapped her arms around her and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. Liz’ eyes fluttered close as she let herself fall into the experience. For a few moments, her entire experience was Natasha, her warmth, her fragrance, her weight, her firm softness. Somehow, the whole thing was, while only slightly inappropriate for the office, intense enough to drown out everything else for a few moments.  
When she opened her eyes again she was alone. Liz smiled.  
“Goodbye, Natasha,” she whispered. “Be safe.”

  



End file.
